


Crooked Room

by Qpenguin98



Series: Better to love than to have and to hold [3]
Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Abigail Jones is mama everybody, Amnesty, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Clairvoyance, Depression, Eating Disorders, Gen, I think?, M/M, Parent Death, Parental Relationships, Platonic Relationships, TAZ Amnesty, i didnt give her a kid dont worry, this turned into way bigger of a bummer than i planned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-11
Updated: 2018-09-11
Packaged: 2019-07-10 23:50:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15960197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Qpenguin98/pseuds/Qpenguin98
Summary: "Abigail Jones can’t remember a time without the Sylphs. Her mama runs the Amnesty Lodge, and she knows there was about a two year period where they weren’t there when she was a baby, but her memory is fairly nonexistent from when she was one and two. All she’s really known is her hotel home is also the home of some ousted aliens, and it’s pretty cool."A short character study of Mama, how she became Mama, and the ones that were there from the beginning.





	Crooked Room

Abigail Jones can’t remember a time without the Sylphs. Her mama runs the Amnesty Lodge, and she knows there was about a two year period where they weren’t there when she was a baby, but her memory is fairly nonexistent from when she was one and two. All she’s really known is her hotel home is also the home of some ousted aliens, and it’s pretty cool.

Of course, it’s also very hush hush and she can’t tell anyone, but who’d believe her anyway?

Barclay first came in the middle of 1967, right around August. He had a group with him, and all of them had looked tired and hungry, her mama had told her. So she’d shacked them up free of charge and figured they’d be on their way fairly quickly.

That’s not what happened.

What ended up happening was mama’s cook had up and died on the spot, a heart attack, very sudden. She’d been out of a chef for the Lodge and Barclay had offered and she’d hired him that same day. The others helped out as well, fixing this and that around the building.

It took a while for it to come out that they weren’t human, but mama had caught Barclay and Moira in their real forms, whispering over something in Barclay’s room. The fallout had lasted about a day, with mama not believing they were really the people she’d kept in her home, given jobs to out of necessity. She’d grabbed her shotgun and threatened them into coming out of the room. It was lucky no one else was there other than the Sylphs and her. Abby had been down playing in the lobby with one of the others, and she’d scooped her up in her arms when she heard the commotion, covering her ears and whispering some kind of prayer that she couldn’t make out.

They explained themselves and mama reluctantly put her shotgun back, allowing them to show her their magical disguises, things to keep them undercover.

It also came out that they’d come to this place because of the spring in the back, filled with some sort of energy that kept them all from going off the walls.

When everything was said and done, it ended up okay. They were still the same people, only sometimes they looked like spooky monsters and had to go take a dip in the spring to keep from going feral. She didn’t kick them out, definitely still needed the help, and with Kepler being so small it was hard to find somebody new.

They stayed for a while, and then Barclay said there was one last person he needed to get, and that was late in December.

The Silver Bridge collapsed on the clear other side of the state the same day he left, and when he returned that next day, he brought with him a very run down looking man in giant bright red glasses. Abby remembers seeing him for the first time. It’s an unsettling memory but also very comforting.

Barclay walked in, and she can’t really remember what words were said between him and her mama, but she remembers spotting him, Indrid, leaning heavily on Barclay and wrapped up in his coat. The red glasses are what really caught her eye. Red hot reflective glass that made it so she couldn’t see his eyes.

“Hello,” she’d said to him, all of two and a half years old. “You look **tired**.”

He said tired at the same time as her, not even looking like he cared that he’d read her mind. She started bouncing up and down.

“You- you **read my mind!** ” they said together, him muttering the words without even thinking about them. “ **You can read my mind!** ”

“Indrid.” Barclay had hissed. “Stop doing the thing.”

“Sorry,” he said, and she remembers the very defeated tone he’d had and the way Barclay had squeezed his arm around him. And then he’d seemed to come back to himself and realize he was somewhere new, somewhere with humans, and the uncomfortably toothy smile that took over his face scared her back to holding onto her mama’s leg.

She’s eight now, much more grown up. Everyone’s a lot less wary in the Lodge. They don’t get too many patrons, so it’s rare that the Sylphs have to put on their human disguises. They still do, of course, to run into town or when they’re feeling like it. Abby’s gotten real used to feathers and fur and fangs and ghosts. Everyone looks just a little different. Barclay’s much taller when he’s in his true form, way hairier, a bit more intimidating she guesses. But who could be intimidated by Barclay, the person she’s grown up with in her life? He cares about everyone way too much to be healthy.

Indrid’s a little less social, doesn’t like going out into the open. He’s cooped up in his and Barclay’s room a lot, sketching out things frantically and tacking them to the walls. Abby likes drawing with him, bringing her grainy sheets of paper and her waxy crayons and sitting on the floor next to him while he sketches. He’d gotten weird about it, uncomfortable and tense the first time she’d sat down next to him when he was drawing out premonitions, doodling flowers and rainbows and the lodge and her and her mom. Then she’d drawn him and Barclay next to each other, Sylph forms and everything. He’d gotten very quiet and asked if he could keep it. She’d handed it off happily before starting to draw Moira.

He never ousts her from drawing time again, comparing doodles when he gets it all out of his head, giving her pointers on how to make a leg work right or how wings really work. But mostly they just have comfortable drawing time, interrupted only by the times he crumples up a drawing and throws it to the corner of the room.

Sometimes Indrid doesn’t come out of his room all day, stays cooped up in bed and doesn’t let hardly anyone in. Sometimes she comes and draws quietly, or she talks to him about her day. Something to distract him. Mama says it’s headaches, fatigue and a lack of decent health hitting him hard. Barclay mentions premonitions occasionally, that they come on so strong that it’s debilitating. The room is usually dark when he’s like that, eyes glowing faintly in the dim room. He never tells her to go away, but he never really talks. She fills the space if she needs to, but usually she just doodles quietly in the dim light.

Him and Barclay are always really close. They share a room, the eat together, Indrid sits in the kitchen when Barclay cooks sometimes. Mama never says anything about it, but they look how couple out in town look. Only she’d never seen two guys together, only a guy and a girl.

“They’re aliens,” mama says when she asks about it. “And what do I care when it’s their business? They’re respectful people and help out a lot and I don’t think them being together is any cause for me to hate them. They’re family, Abby. We gotta treat ‘em like such.”

Mama answers her questions a little, but it’s not enough.

“Are you and Indrid together?” She asks Barclay one day, kicking her legs on the counter while he makes a batch of cookies.

“How do you mean?” He asks, handing her a spoonful of cookie dough.

“You know,” she says popping the chocolate chip dough in her mouth. “Together. Married. Dating. Like boyfriend and girlfriend but two boys.”

He goes quiet for a moment. Abby nudges him with her foot, trying to get his attention.

“I… I guess. We’re not married, that’s for certain. Indrid… he hasn’t been on Earth as long as I have, and we’ve known each other for a long time, but still not so long in Sylph time. He’s very particular about things, but I guess you could say we’re together like that. It’s so weird here on Earth with all these unspoken rules about love. Here at the Lodge is fine. Your mama’s a good person, Abby. She doesn’t judge too hard like everyone else.”

“Is it okay?” she asks him, looking at her feet. There’s a girl in her class that she thinks is cute the same way she thinks boys are cute, but no girls ever talk about that.

“Is what okay, Abby?”

“Liking the same people like that?”

“Of course,” Barclay says as he stops mixing. “Of course that’s okay. Liking the same kind of person as you is definitely okay. Some people might say it’s not, but don’t listen to them okay? You can like whoever you like.”

“Okay,” she says, and she swipes her finger into the bowl for another bite of cookie dough.

“Hey!” he says, snatching the bowl away, smiling. “What are we gonna eat if there’s not cooked cookies?”

“Cookie dough!” she yells “It’s better!”

“One more bite,” he says, scooping one last spoonful for her. “The rest we have to bake, okay?”

“Okay,” she agrees, happy with her spoon of dough.

She turns nine the next year, 1974. It’s the same year that the first abomination turns up.

Her and Indrid and Barclay are out in the woods. Abby wants Indrid to take her flying, but he’s very reluctant. There may not be too many people in Kepler, but they still have eyes, and plenty have cameras.

“Please?” She whines, leaning on him. “It doesn’t even have to be for long. Just a little bit?”

“Abby—,” he says, cutting himself off. His hands twitch, and so do his eyes, staring down at the ground. Then he scoops her up in his arms, which really is a feat considering how thin he is and how little he eats.

“There’s something coming in the woods,” he says quickly, fanning out his wings. “You need to run.”

“What?” Barclay asks, confused. Abby hears a snap in the distance, and another, and it settles into a rumble.

“Go go go!” He yells as he flies upward. Barclay finally catches up to the situation, turning and running the way back to the Lodge. Abby’s stomach lurches as they go up, and she can tell Indrid’s not used to carrying other people during this. They go up above the trees and they can’t see what barrels through the woods, but she can hear the horrible shriek it makes as it smashes through the forest.

“ _Idiot_ ,” Indrid hisses though his teeth. “He’s going to be an idiot.”

“Will he be okay?” Abby asks, snapping out of her stunned fear.

“I,” he starts and doesn’t finish. He clutches her closer and she feels a shudder run through him. She gets scared all over again.

“Can we go home?”

“Yeah,” he says roughly. “Let’s go home.”

He drops her off at home, makes sure mama gets her safe inside, and then he runs back out. She tries to run out after him but mama keeps her in place, hands digging into her shoulders.

Indrid comes back almost an hour later with Barclay hanging off his shoulder. His breathing sounds funny and there’s blooded matted into his fur. Indrid looks absolutely exhausted but he holds him up anyway, dropping him onto the couch.

“Abby go get the first aid kit,” her mama says and she runs off to the bathroom to find it, grabbing the box and getting a washcloth wet. She’s waiting for her, grabbing the supplies from her and setting to work.

Indrid practically collapses onto the floor at the foot of the couch, clutching at his head, shaking. Mama doesn’t need her anymore, focused in on Barclay, so she scoots over next to him. She puts a hand on his shoulder and he jolts, staring at her. His eyes are glowing, even in this light. He grabs her close, pulls her in against his chest, presses his face into her hair.

“Indrid?”

“You’re okay,” he shudders out. “You’re okay. He’ll be okay. I— I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I should have seen it. _I’m sorry_.”

She doesn’t know what to do. Nine feels old for her most of the time, but right now she feels little again. She doesn’t know what to do. There’s a monster outside, something that hurt Barclay, and Indrid’s holding her like she was ever in some kind of danger, even though he moved so fast that there was never a chance of her getting caught up in its grasp.

“It’s okay,” she says quietly. “I’m okay.”

He holds her close for a long time, until she gets squirmy. Then he lets her go and wraps his wings around himself, dropping his head to his knees. Barclay hasn’t said anything this entire time, and when she looks up he’s passed out. Mama’s stitching something up, wiping away blood with the washcloth. She waits anxiously, resting on the edge of the couch. She finishes stitching him up, placing a bandage over it.

“He’ll be alright,” mama says, wiping her hands off. “Don’t you worry. He’ll be alright.”

Abby feels tears burning in her eyes now that the danger has passed and scrubs at them. Mama pulls her in for a hug and she cries into her shirt, avoiding the blood spots. She holds her close, brushing her hair back with her hand.

“Shh baby, it’s okay. It’s okay to be scared. If you need to cry then you go ahead and cry.”

She sobs and mama holds her tight. She cries until she can’t, until her eyes ache and her face is soaked. Indrid’s still curled up on the floor, wings so tight around himself that she can’t see his face. She doesn’t know what to do.

“Mama,” she croaks out. “Mama Indrid’s not okay either.”

“I’m fine,” he says, not moving. Mama lets her go and bends down in front of him, resting a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Lemme look at you. You were out there with that thing too.”

He loosens up a little bit. Mama takes his face in her hands. He looks exhausted. He looks a little dead. She sniffles and he looks at her, frowning.

“I’m sorry, Abby,” he says again, and mama makes him look at her again.

“Stop that.” She looks at him thoroughly. “You don’t need to apologize.”

“She almost got hurt,” he says miserably. “She could have gotten hurt and she was out with me. I— I never meant to put her in danger.”

“You never woulda let her get hurt,” she says decisively. “You both woulda died before she got even a scratch. Don’t you worry about her getting hurt. She can take care of herself too. She’s a scrappy little thing.”

“I should have seen it. I should have known. I can see. What’s the fucking _point_ if I can’t—”

“ _Stop_ ,” mama says harshly. “You need to stop being so hard on yourself. She didn’t get hurt. Barclay got himself hurt. We’re all okay, Indrid. Everyone here is gonna be okay.”

He nods. Indrid rarely swears around her, but no one says anything about it. He doesn’t seem like he’s okay. This is like one of his bad days but worse. He’s loose and tense at the same time. His whole body is shaking and mama’s still trying to look him over. He didn’t get hurt, but he’s clearly not okay.

“Take a couple deep breaths for me.” She demonstrates for him and he repeats, closing his eyes. Abby sits down next to him, resting on his side. He stops shaking so bad and mama sits back, takes her hands away, lets him pull himself together.

Barclay wakes up eventually, groaning and wincing as he moves. Indrid hops up, still looking dead tired, and sits on the couch next to him.

“Hey,” he says lowly. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Barclay groans out. “Just a scratch. Did we kill it?”

“No,” Indrid says. “It crawled back into the woods. It’s not dead. It’ll come back.”

He’s quiet again for a moment as this sinks into everyone and then he says, “It was from Sylvain.”

“What?” Barclay asks, forcing himself into sitting up. “How? Why?”

“There’s a passage near here, I think. A bridge. But there’s something wrong with it. It was feral, but not. Magically feral. It shouldn’t have been like that.”

Indrid and Barclay talk in hushed tones about it for a while until Barclay seems to realize how exhausted Indrid looks.

“ **Indrid, get some sleep** ,” Barclay says and Indrid says over him. “ **Don’t do that. _Indrid_**.”

“Not tired,” he says, whole body slumped over. “I just… I know you’re okay. I can _see_ it. But. But I can’t just leave you to go sleep.”

He settles in next to him and Barclay offers up his shoulder. Abby watches from the floor next to mama, and she wraps her arm around her, holding her close. Indrid rests on Barclay’s shoulder, closing his eyes and sighing. Barclays hold his hand tightly.

The next years are marked by abominations, Indrid sketching out what he can parse from premonitions in the dark. Now that they’re expecting them it’s easier for him to look into the future to see what kinds of monsters are coming next and when. Mama keeps her shotgun loaded and Abby tries to keep herself in fighting shape, throwing punches in the yard and getting herself strong. Barclay keeps ready. He’s large and intimidating, but he’s not the strongest fighter. Him and her practice together in the early mornings before school sometimes.

Indrid locks himself in his room more. He’s trying to wrack his brain for any kind of an advantage they could have. His migraines get worse and he’s always in the dark so it can’t be good for his eyes, even if he does have night vision. He eats when he needs to, but no more. It’s a lot of years of him kind of wasting away while all of them try to fight off these monsters.

She’s sixteen, 1982. She’s strong and helps fight off the monsters and mama teaches her how to use the shotgun and she has steady arms and a cool demeanor. They come three days before the full moon, different every time, sometimes similar. Water monsters, air monsters, things that possess the trees. She’s decent at fighting and mama doesn’t believe in keeping her cooped up for her own safety. She gets roughed up sometimes, but it’s worth it. She’s protecting her home, protecting her family.

“Hey,” she says, knocking on the doorframe to Indrid and Barclay’s room. He looks up from his sketchbook, human guise on. It’s a little less big, a little less cumbersome for working on premonitions. She can’t see his eyes like this, but she knows there’d be deep set bags if she could. “Barclay made stew.”

“I know,” he says, rolling the pencil in his hands. “But I’m busy. I’ll be down in a while.”

“Come down now,” she says firmly. “You haven’t eaten all day and you won’t if I don’t make you.”

“Oh, you’re going to make me? Interesting. I’d love to see that play out.”

“You’re not that heavy,” she threatens. “I could carry you down easily.”

“Oh yeah?” He pulls off his glasses, gaining wings, covering himself in dark fuzz. “How about now?”

“You don’t gain any damn body weight and you know it.” She can see how tired he is now. She’s gotten used to how he’s looked over the years, learning the ticks and different quirks that show exactly how rested he is. He’s completely exhausted, which is unsurprising. He’s almost constantly sketching out scenarios, trying to push things in the right directions. She knows he feels bad about the Silver Bridge, even with how long ago it was. He’s trying so hard to keep them all safe, to make sure things go perfectly for them.

“You gonna drag me down?” He’s grinning at her. “Make Barclay make me eat? Get your mama into it? I bet she’d be able to make me eat. Why don’t you call her over, voice your concerns, Abigail? I’m sure she’d be glad you told her.”

His words hurt and she frowns. He never purposefully hurts her, but this just feels mean.

“ **Don’t be like that** ,” they say together, Indrid’s grin getting bigger and bigger. “ ** _Don’t_. You can’t upset me, I’ve dealt with worse**.”

“From your family? You dealt with this from your family? I don’t think any of us have ever made you feel bad like this. And I know you’re feeling bad, Abby. I can see it. I can see it perfectly clear, just like how I know Barclay won’t make me eat tonight and your mama’s gonna get upset about it and drag me downstairs and force me to eat something, doesn’t matter what it is. Maybe it’ll be the stew, maybe she’ll try just a piece of toast. It’s up in the air right now, not set. There’s an abomination coming next week, and it’ll be one that messes with the animals. You’ll break your leg and your mama will go to the hospital and Barclay will get a concussion but you’ll all end up fine probably. I’ll be here, crumpling up papers and hoping it all works out like this, because this is the best scenario and it’s still not great.”

He pauses, takes a deep breath, and covers his face in his hands. Abby’s crying now, big fat tears that roll off her scrunched up face. Her chest hurts and she hates it when it gets like this. Deprecating and withdrawn. He’s never mean though. Usually he doesn’t talk or says quiet things about the future, but he’s never mean.

“Stop being **_mean_** ,” he says the last word with her and looks back up at her desperately. “ **I know you do this sometimes but you’re never mean. I hate it. I hate it. Don’t be _mean_**!”

“Abby,” he says quietly. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I… you don’t need this. I’ll come down for dinner tonight. I didn’t mean to… I’m sorry.”

“I’m worried about you!” She yells. “I care about you. You’re my family and I love you. You mean so much to me. You’ve been here practically my whole life and you won’t eat! You’re always cold and always stick thin skinny and you never do anything about it. You stay cooped up with your headaches because you’re trying too hard to keep us safe when we can take care of ourselves just fine. You need to take care of yourself! Fuck!”

She devolves into messier tears, something she rarely does. Things are never this overwhelming in the moment, and she’s usually good at locking it up and away. But she’s upset and scared and she just wants things to be okay but nothing is anymore.

“Abby,” he says frantically, getting up from his spot on the bed. His arms come around her and she presses her face into his chest. She can feel his ribs through his chest and cries harder. “I’m sorry. God, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean any of it. I know you care about me. I know. I love you, you’re my family. I don’t want to put this on you and I never meant to, especially not like this. You don’t need this. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

He repeats his apologies into her hair and the door opens. It’s Barclay or her mama, she’s not sure which one. A hand settles on her shoulder. Barclay, her mama’s hand is rougher.

“What happened?”

“I messed up,” Indrid says, petting through her hair. “I fucked up, Barclay. God, I— I don’t know what to _do_.”

“Indrid what did you do?”

“I… I don’t know. I don’t know how to fucking— I’m sorry. God, I’m sorry.”

“I just want you to be okay,” she whimpers out. “Because you’re not okay.”

“Oh,” Barclay says, and she can hear the defeated tone behind her. “Oh Indrid, what happened?”

“I just… I was mean and nasty and said things I shouldn’t have. I’m so _tired_ , Barclay. I’m so tired.”

“Come down and eat,” he says gently. “Both of you. The stew should be easy on your stomach. Just tonight, okay?”

“Okay,” Indrid says, letting her go. “I’ll eat, let’s go.”

He eats the stew, though he doesn’t eat much of it. His face is lax, he doesn’t really show any emotion. But Abby knows he’s upset, knows he wishes he could force more food down without making himself sick. Barclay packs up the leftover half of his soup in a Tupperware for him and pops it in the fridge. He gets him a glass of water and Indrid finishes it in under thirty seconds.

True to his word, an abomination does show up the next week. Abby and Barclay and mama all set out to hunt it, fire on sticks, shotgun loaded, an axe in hand. Indrid warns them multiple times about it, the size, the strength, what the best scenarios are.

Abby breaks her leg pretty early on so she thinks they’re headed for the right territory, and Barclay bumps his head when he gets thrown halfway across a clearing and into the closest tree. There’s a cracking noise from behind her, where mama is, and Abby turns and chucks her axe at it, nailing it right in the center, where the thing lives. It shrieks and writhes for a moment, dying with speed before going still forever.

“Okay,” Abby says, gritting her teeth at her leg being broken. “We all okay for the most part?”

What should have happened is this: Abby breaks her leg, Barclay gets a concussion, mama goes to the hospital but comes home fine.

What happens is this. Abby breaks her leg. Barclay gets a bad concussion. Mama doesn’t answer her. There’s rustling in the trees behind them and she tenses, ready to fight her way out again, and then Indrid pops through, glasses on, motions frantic.

“No, no, no no no no,” he says as he gets close to her mama. “Oh fuck, oh god, no, no no no.”

“Indrid?” she asks, anxious. She drags herself over there to where he’s hunched up over her mama. “Mama?”

“Abby, don’t, don’t come over here,” he says roughly, his voice watery. “Please just stay over there.”

“Wha’s happenin’?” Barclay slurs from his place under the tree. “Is everyone alright?”

“Mama?” she asks again, dragging herself over leaves and dirt and sticks. “Mama?!”

His hands are shaking and he sits back, face blank. Mama’s not moving and when Abby makes it over there, she tries to shove her awake. There’s not even the rise and fall of a chest to indicate breathing. She’s still, neck tilted at an odd angle, eyes open, unseeing.

“Indrid, what…” She can’t think, grabs at her mama’s duster, clutches at the soft worn fabric. “Mama?”

“I’m sorry,” he whispers out. “Oh god I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Abby please.”

It clicks in her head a moment later, when she hears Barclay clambering upright in the distance. A sob wrenches its way unwillingly out of her and she drapes herself over mama’s body. It’s ugly and she can hear Indrid breaking down beside them, but it doesn’t matter. Her mama’s dead. Her mama’s _dead_.

Someone eventually comes, gloved hands, soft voices. Pulls her away from mama’s body and lifts her up on a stretcher. Barclay’s in his human guise again, looking half asleep on Indrid’s shoulder. Indrid isn’t moving, just staring blankly at the ground.

Everything’s a blur after, there’s a cast on her leg suddenly, scrapes patched up and tended to. They get home eventually and she sits on the couch, wrapped in mama’s duster. She doesn’t know how she got it, just that it’s on her shoulders. It smells like her, like dirt and gunpowder and the certain tang of the woods.

The sudden horrible thought that it was her fault enters her brain and she feels her lungs lock up inside of her.

Indrid is in the kitchen, cooking something for dinner. Barclay’s nestled upstairs, resting off the concussion. Indrid’s movements are slow, calculated.

“ **Don’t lie to me** ,” they say together, and Indrid turns towards her. “I need you to be honest.”

“Oh Abby,” he says, clearly already knowing what she’ll ask. “Don’t think that.”

“Be _honest_. Don’t lie like you do sometimes when you’re hurting.” She sniffles. “Was it my fault?”

“No,” he says, fidgeting his hands. “No Abby it was never your fault.”

“But—,” she says, wiping at her nose. “B-but I wasn’t fast enough. I coulda stopped it. I coulda killed it sooner.”

“Plenty of things could have happened out there,” he says, frowning. She can hear the cracks in his voice. “But none of it was anything you did or didn’t do. It’s just how it happened. Something… changed on the way out there, or in the middle. I felt it, I knew. I tried to get out there before, but I wasn’t fast enough.”

She starts crying again, big nasty tears that she hates. He scoops her up in his thin arms and holds her close while she cries, clearly trying not to cry himself. No one comes into the kitchen to offer their condolences. Everyone is grieving. Everyone is upset.

The year after mama’s death is rough. She hates it, a lot. Everyone wants to coddle her a little, try to get her to take a break from handling the abominations, someone else can handle it.

She goes out with her mama’s gun and blows the thing’s head clean off.

They stop coddling her after she goes out and does that alone in the middle of the night. Most of them do anyway.

“What the hell, Abby?” Barclay asks, up late at night, waiting for her to get back. “You could’ve gotten killed!”

“But I didn’t,” she says, kicking off her boots and hanging up the duster. “Came back fine and now that thing’s dead.”

“You came close,” Indrid says from the couch. He isn’t looking at her.

“Barely,” she scoffs. “And what do you care? You could’ve stopped to warn me if you wanted to.”

“He was sleeping, don’t be like that,” Barclay says, low voiced. “Just because you feel like you’ve got something to prove doesn’t mean you get to go risk your life to prove it. Ask one of us. Don’t forget you’re not an adult.”

“One fucking year out,” she says, raising her voice. “Like it makes that big of a goddamn difference. Just ‘cause you’re like a hundred years old doesn’t mean you get to shit all over my growing up.”

“You don’t get to die!” Indrid says, standing up and turning towards her. “Not you too. Every time you walk out that door I’ve got no idea what’ll happen to you. You’re a mystery, Abby. And maybe that’s good, but too many scenarios end up with you dying fast or slow or painful or just like your mama. I can’t watch you die. I can’t do that.”

“You’re not my parents!” She feels like a little kid, throwing a temper tantrum. “My mama’s dead and I don’t got a dad and you don’t get to step in and act like you’re my dads or some bullshit like that. I’m my own person. I don’t have parents or relatives or any kinda family left because mama died and you won’t let me help!”

“You have a family,” Barclay says. “We’re you’re family. We helped raise you. We may not be your parents but we were certainly there for almost all of it.”

“I don’t care if I die,” she says just because she knows it will hurt them. “I don’t give one goddamn single solitary fuck if I die.”

“I know,” Indrid says before Barclay can get a word in edgewise. “I know you really, really don’t care if you die right now. And I know you’re telling us because you want us to hurt just like you are. Because I do that, Abby. You know I do it too. I have since I got here.”

Her chest is burning and so are her eyes but she refuses to give either of them the validation of crying. He’s right and he knows it.

“So what?” she says. “That doesn’t… that’s got nothing to do with it.”

“Of course not,” he says, and he looks so sad. He always looks sad these days. She wants him to stop being sad and take care of himself, but he hasn’t done that for years.

“You don’t get to talk to be about not dying,” she says bitterly. “Look at you. A light breeze could knock you over. You haven’t eaten a decent meal since before mama died, and you’re talking to me about self preservation? ‘You don’t get to die, Abby. I can’t watch you die too.’ What about me?! You think I like watching you slowly starve to death and the way your headaches never really go away and how you lock yourself in your room for days on end and only ever let Barclay in? You don’t get to lecture me on staying alive when you’re barely fucking standing.”

He looks like she just slapped him. Good. He should. That’s how she feels all the time when he casually refuses food or help or any kind of comfort.

“Abby,” Barclay says, desperation tinging his voice. “Please. Talk to us?”

“I’m talking,” she says lowly, biting back the hurt she’s feeling. “I’m saying words and we’re having a conversation.”

“I didn’t know that I was hurting you,” Indrid says quietly, staring at the wooden floorboards with wide eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“You gotta stop apologizing,” she says. “You act like everything’s your fault, like you killed my mama or you killed all those people on the bridge or that it’s your fault I get hurt when I do something reckless just cause you get premonitions of multiple turn outs. My feelings are my own. And just cause you’re not physically there doesn’t make it not your fault. It’s never your fault. It’s never your fucking fault.”

“I know you miss your mama,” Barclay says. “I know because we all do. But you can’t risk your life every time you walk out that door just because you miss her. What if we all did that? What if Indrid or Moira or I almost died every time we went outside just because we were upset?”

She doesn’t want to think about that, eyes burning more, tears threatening to fall. “That’s different.”

“It really isn’t,” Indrid says. “It’s that same level of care. You’d be horrified if Barclay did this. So be horrified for yourself.”

The tears spill over, but she won’t look at them. Barclay takes a step closer to her and when she doesn’t move away he wraps his arms around her. Indrid snakes his bony arms around her other side, his cold body not offering much in the way of physical comfort but a lot in the mental category.

“I just want her to be proud’a me,” she wobbles out. “I was there when she died and I couldn’t save her and I wanna prove I can do it.”

“She was always proud of you,” Barclay says. “That wouldn’t change now. She’d be worried, but she wouldn’t be disappointed. You’re so good, Abby. You’re so good.”

She lets go and cries into their arms, letting them hold her through it. She was mean and she was hurtful and she feels it now, deep inside of herself. She hates herself for it. They’re her family and they love her and she yelled and screamed and took it all out on them.

“I’m sorry,” she sobs out.

“It’s okay,” Indrid says. “It’ll be okay.”

It’s alright for a while. But the abominations keep coming. And coming, And they get stronger and she can’t take it anymore.

When she’s twenty she sneaks one of Indrid’s old scarves that she knows it from Silvain and wraps it around herself and then treks off into the woods with her gun and her duster, nothing else. The gateway is there, and the full moon lights it up, creating what she knows is the passage. Moira had explained it to her a while ago.

The moment she walks through she’s accosted by guards, weapons aimed at her. She holds her hands up, keeps her face neutral. “I’m here to talk about the things that keep coming from your world into ours.”

She’s led to an interrogation room, spears kept close and pointed at her body. Someone takes her gun and frisks her and she lets them. She’ll demand the gun back before she leaves.

An older woman, vampiric looking with sharp ears and a long tail, sits in front of her.

“How are you withstanding the effect this place has on humans?” she asks first, waving the guards out of the room.

“This scarf is from here. A Sylvain original.”

“Who is it from?” Her eyes narrow. “Did you steal it from one of the dead?”

“The— the dead? Do you think they’re all dead?”

“Of course. Sylphs die or go feral without their power source. Earth has none.”

“Oh, we got a power source. Guess the spring in the back of our Lodge is magically imbued or something like that. Regardless, I didn’t steal it from anyone dead. Borrowed it from my family to come visit and see why monsters keep coming from your world into ours.”

“Who, if I might ask, would you consider your family?”

“You gotta promise it won’t somehow come down on them if I say,” she says lowly. “I don’t want any of them hurting anymore from y’all.”

“They’re already out of our jurisdiction. It doesn’t matter who or what they once were. They’re no longer our responsibility.”

“I got this specifically from your old seer Indrid,” she says, rubbing at the fabric of the scarf. The woman’s eyes go wide. “But there’s more than just him I’d consider my family. Barclay, Moira, buncha others. They’ve been with me since I was a baby.”

“I honestly didn’t expect Indrid to survive long,” she says to herself, and Abby furrows her eyes. “But no matter. You know their names, you know his former title, it’s clear you at least knew him before acquiring the scarf. That puts you in a better position here. Now. What’s this about monsters?”

“We call ‘em the abominations,” she says. “Damn hard to kill, the bastards. Indrid says they’re from here, got the Sylph magic in them. But they ain’t sentient. Or if they are they aren’t anymore. Takes over a buncha things, water, wind, fire, animals. Indrid’s a real big help on planning for what comes next, but he gets wore out so easy I hate to make him do it. So I want your government or whatever you got running the place to help out. Give us supplies. Let us form a formal group, small of course, of humans that know what’s happening and how to stop it.”

“These abominations aren’t from here,” she says. “But they are also not from your world, you say? Interesting. They do seem to be full of magic of some sort or another. We’ve been monitoring them, making sure they don’t end up in Sylvain. He must be mistaking that magic with a Sylph’s. It does feel awful similar.”

“You don’t want them on your planet, and that’s fine,” she says, annoyed. They’ve known what’s been happening and hadn’t cared to do anything? “But If you want it to stay that way I suggest you take my request into consideration.”

“Is that a threat?”

“No,” she says truthfully. “But those things have gotten stronger. We lost someone important to one a few years ago. I don’t want the same to happen to your people.”

Even if they left her family to die, even if they left them to go feral in an unfamiliar world.

“You seem to care about them a lot,” the woman says, pleased. “I’ll bring it to the council.”

Then she’s left alone again in her room. She plays with the scarf, messing with it between her fingers.

It’s a long while until she comes back. She has a smile on her face. “The council agrees with your point. They’ll allow you to make a group, but it must be small. It must be the best secret you keep. We can’t have humans strolling in and out of here willy nilly. There will be measures taken if we suspect you of misusing this power. They will not be pleasant.”

“Obviously,” she mutters. With the way they handle their people, ousting them to die alone, she could have assumed.

“We also can’t rely on you having unlimited access to Sylph clothing, so we’ll be making you a sort of patch, something for your human members to wear when they come to Sylvain. Any requests?”

“Gimme some time to think it over. I can always use this in the meantime.” She pulls at her scarf.

“Of course. Get some members, create a design that makes sense, and then we’ll make it for you. You’re doing us a service, taking care of these abominations.”

“Thank you,” she says, fake respectful. She couldn’t care less what their council thinks of her. “Could I get my gun back and go home?”

“Certainly. Let me have someone grab it for you.”

She gets her gun and gets spear prodded back to the gate. When she pushes her way through, the gateway disappears and she can no longer see Sylvain.

Waiting for her is Indrid. He has his glasses on, gaunt human form tensed in wait.

“They didn’t hurt you,” he rushes out, touching her face.

“Course not. I know how to talk to higher ups.”

“I was worried. Barclay doesn’t know. I knew you were going, but there were so many outcomes. Things you could have said that would screw you over forever.”

“I’m alright,” she says gently. “Got permission to start gathering up a couple humans to help us fight these abominations. Just a few, very trustworthy. I wouldn’t worry about it.”

“They gave you permission for that?” He looks surprised. Maybe his premonitions only work for the planet he’s on. “I’m impressed.”

“Thanks,” she says, smiling. “C’mon. It’s still dark out and I wanna get at least a little sleep.”

In the morning she sets about gathering people. She gets Mike, who gets to work chronicling their past monsters, writing out notes on each case, and Thacker, a guy who always wanted to be a scientists when they were in school together but never made it too far in college. Both of them work hard, and both of them get very good at wielding a weapon. Them and Barclay fight of the abominations with Indrid’s help, and things get a little bit healthier. She’s got people to rely on, and there’s more people to take care of each other, so Indrid doesn’t strain himself so much.

She gets older than she’d ever imagined she’d get, hits thirty in 1995 and it’s surreal. Thirty always felt so far away, like she’d die before she made it. An unhealthy way of thinking for sure, but no one ever called her on it. Ten years of the Pine Guard, killing monsters and abominations and fixing relations between Sylvain and Earth. Barclay’s welcomed back for brief periods of time, having been exiled the longest ago, to show proof of the ability to survive outside of Sylvain. He’s one of the biggest helps in repairing whatever relationship there might have been before.

2000 rolls around, and then ’01, and ’02. Mike moves all the files onto their brand new computer, organizing in a spreadsheet for optimal ease.

Then he dies, sudden, crushed to death from the pressure of one of the abominations.

Indrid’s upset, of course. He didn’t see it coming. She’s upset, Thacker’s upset, Barclay’s upset. They’re all upset. Everyone loved Mike. He was such an asset, and now he’s gone.

Then Thacker disappears, gone in the night and he doesn’t come back. There’s rumors that he went to Sylvain, but no one can find him there either.

She’s thirty seven now, almost as old as her mama when she died. There’s still new Sylphs coming, younger and younger now that they now survival is possible. The Lodge almost fills up, young adult Sylphs joining the fray.

She helps one of them, a young kid named Jarren, patch up a scraped knee.

“Thanks, Mama,” he says quietly when she finishes, and she freezes. Mama, huh? Never thought she’d be called that, but it doesn’t feel horrible. It feels right.

“You’re welcome, kid,” she says, ruffling his hair. Mama feels better than Abby does now. She’s not a little kid anymore, relying on her mama and her family for protection. She’s doing the protecting now, almost all on her own.

Mama picks up as a nickname, and suddenly everyone’s calling her that. Everyone but Barclay and Indrid, the closest to her growing up.

She gets reckless again. She’s an adult now. No one can yell at her. Indrid’s restless, nervous, running onto scenes moments after the abominations are defeated, just to make sure her and Barclay are alright. He’s getting restless too, and Indrid’s uncomfortable, but he can’t seem to do anything about it.

They have fights about it, him and Barclay, loud in their bedroom, but no one eavesdrops. They’re too respected for that.

And then one day, the door slams and Indrid, all skin and bones and pale gaunt face with his glasses on, drags a bag downstairs and walks for the door.

“Indrid?” She asks, anxious all over again. “What’s happening?”

“I can’t keep doing this,” he says, clutching at his head. “I can’t keeps seeing both of you die and then coming onto the scene and finding you half dead, bleeding out, wrapped up in each other. I can’t do that so I won’t. I can’t be your seer anymore, Abby. I love you, and I love him, but I can’t be here anymore. It’s too much.”

“ **Wait** ,” they say together, and he snatches his arm back from where she tries to touch it.

“Don’t. I’m not— I won’t go far. But I can’t do this for you. I can’t be this close to you when you die.”

She doesn’t find out where he goes. He keeps himself well enough hidden, but she knows people still see him in town. That hasn’t changed.

Barclay is a wreck, but he throws himself that much more wholeheartedly into the Pine Guard, keeping Kepler safe from the monsters that surround it.

She gets a call on the Lodge phone one snowy night, a number she doesn’t recognize, and her gut tells her to answer it.

“Mama speaking,” she says.

“There’s a Sylph kid stuck in the woods right now. Real young. Not even a teenager.” It’s Indrid. She hasn’t heard his voice in years.

“In— Indrid? What’re you— what?”

He sighs. “Sylph kid just got deserted here. Honestly, what the hell are they doing over there, kicking out kids. Anyway, if you don’t go get her in the next thirty minutes she’ll get hypothermia and die. I’d rather not be even partially responsible for the death of a little kid.”

The wire goes dead and she stands there for a second, shocked. Three years and he never said anything. But now he calls about a premonition of a little kid, and how can she ignore it?”

She grabs Barclay, says something about a lost kid in the woods, and sets out to the arch.

Sure enough, there’s a little Sylph shivering in the snow, arms wrapped around herself. Her heart pangs. Barclay sucks in a breath beside her, shocked. She never mentioned it was a Sylph.

“Hey,” she says gently. The girl turns to her, yellow eyes wide, scared. “Hey honey. Don’t worry. We’re not gonna hurt you.”

She looks ready to bolt, but doesn’t look like she can move too far. Barclay raises his hands and then slips his bracelet off. Her eyes widen as she watches him grow, recognizing a Sylph form in front of her. Her shoulders relax, and she Looks at Mama expectantly.

“Oh, I’m not like you two. I’m just a human. My name’s Mama. What’s yours?”

“Dani,” she says through chattering teeth. Barclay holds out his coat for her and she wraps up in it, nose bright red.

“I’m Barclay,” he says. “I know you must be really scared and confused right now, and that’s okay. But do you wanna come into some warmth? We got a Lodge. Lots of other Sylphs there. I can make you some warm soup, or a grilled cheese, or anything you like.”

She nods her head and shuffles closer to them, still wary. They lead her back to the Lodge, careful not to crowd, allowing her room to run if she wants. She doesn’t, sticking close to them.

When they enter the Lodge, everyone looks up. There’s a couple gasps, lots of whispers. Dani brightens up immediately, though.

“You were telling the truth!” She turns to Barclay. “Can I have soup?”

“Yeah. You just go wait at that table. I’ll get some going for you.”

There’s a stray coloring book on the table, and she grabs it, flipping through to look at the finished and unfinished drawings. People are still whispering and she shoots them a look. It’s effective.

Dani fits in nicely, even if she is only twelve. She helps Barclay in the kitchen, and even if their personalities are essentially opposite, she reminds her of her younger self.

She doesn’t get the chance to trace that call, but it doesn’t matter. Three more years, forty three, and she gets another one for another young kid, similar in age to how old Dani is now. Jake, no last name yet, fits in nice as well. He loves snowboarding and joins a local group in his human guise.

She gets calls for abandoned Sylphs and not much else. He never stays on the phone long enough to matter.

Then he calls on day, when she’s fifty three, over the hill and still risking her neck for every single one of these people she dares call family, and it’s something different.

“Go down to Snowshoe today,” he says quietly. “Help out around a hotel, maybe. I think you’ll like what happens.”

“Can’t give me any more specifics, Indrid?” Barclay looks out from the kitchen, brows furrowed. She waves him off.

“Nah. I’ll tell you this,” and she can tell he’s smiling. “Something that should not be is there. I’m not really sure how it’s working, but it won’t be what you think. Really. It’ll be so fun Abby.”

“Fine, asshole,” she says fondly. Their relationship may be strained, but she cherishes these phone calls. “Any other news?”

He’s quiet for a moment. She can hear him open his mouth and then close it. “Nah. Nothing important. Love you, Abs.”

“Love you too, jerk.”

She goes down to Snowshoe, catches what she thinks is a stray Sylph but it just turns out to be a regular ass human that can do magic, which she’s never heard of. Barclay gets a con man to catch him on video accidentally, and then Duck Newton the forest ranger walks out of the archway in a daze, and she gets the best idea she’s had in years.

“How’d you like to be a part of the Pine Guard?”

They all, blessedly, agree. She has a new crew, new people to delegate. She can work on finding more information on the abominations finally.

Aubrey gets hurt in the fray, but she’ll be alright. Barclay’s got it taken care of. She sets out to Sylvain, waving at Vincent when she passes him.

The wilds are a terrible place. The Sylphs she finds there are practically rabid, aching for any source of their land’s power, too far away from the crystal to get any.

And then she finds something she never thought she’d see again.

She finds Thacker.

He’s real fucked up and kind of tries to eat her, but it’s him. She’d recognize that face anywhere. She manages to wrangle him back to Earth, gets hurt by some ferals on the way back, and ends up back in the hospital when she makes it home.

Then everything moves fast and she’s telling Barclay about Thacker and he’s locked in the old base part of the Lodge and then the new Guard finds out and it’s kind of a big mess.

The pizza hut sign falls onto the grocery store and Aubrey realizes she killed her mom and Ned ends up hospitalized and it’s a pretty rough night.

And then Aubrey gets that call from the hospital phone, and Jake comes rushing back with news of where the information came from, and everything clicks.

That asshole.

“Barclay,” she says lowly. “I gotta go take care of something. Can you watch over Ned and make sure Aubrey doesn’t self destruct anymore than she already has?”

“On it,” he says, fake saluting her. “Do I get to know what?”

“If it goes well, I’ll tell you. Don’t want to get your hopes up for nothing.”

She saddles up in her truck and goes down to the residential trailer park. There’s only one trailer there, and of course he stuck by so close.

She slams a gloved fist on the door and he opens. A wave of heat washes over her, space heaters lining the room inside. He always ran cold, but never went to these measures. He’s in a dirty tank top and some old pants, and he’s still as stick thin unhealthy as he was the last time she saw him.

“Abby!” he says, grin splitting his face. “What a big surprise!”

“You gonna let me in?”

He moves to the side and allows her entry. There’s an entire wall covered in sketches, and he goes over and grabs one off the wall, crumpling it up.

“You’re still looking healthy,” she says dryly.

“It’s all the egg nog,” he says, and she realizes there’s glasses and mugs half full of the stuff all over everywhere. Not all of it is drinkable. He takes a drink of the glass in his hand. “Pretty good stuff.”

“Thought you weren’t acting as seer for the Pine Guard anymore,” she says, cutting straight to the point. She’ll deal with his apparent Christmastime drink addiction later. “So what’s all this calling up my guard to let them know when a tragedy’s gonna strike?”

“I’m not playing seer,” he says calmly. He sits on his couch, stares into his class, and then knocks the rest of it back. She wonders briefly if it’s alcoholic. “Something’s changing the timelines, Abby. Things that should be happening aren’t. It doesn’t feel natural. Things are changing in an instant, not from regular happenstance. I want to see if I can do anything about it.”

“Leo’s store?”

“Shouldn’t have happened,” he says firmly. “There was nothing structurally wrong with that sign, and even if Aubrey hadn’t cut it down, the wind would have smashes it into the roof, killing everyone in there. Wind doesn’t do that here, certainly not with all this tree cover.”

“Huh,” she says, sitting at his kitchen table. The space is so small, so hot. “Think it’s an abomination?”

“I don’t think so,” he says, rolling the glass in his hands. He looks tired again, not like he ever stopped looking it. “And even those, they haven’t been regular. They’re strong, they’re coming at times they shouldn’t. This is something darker. I don’t think I’ll like what I find out.”

“Think we can figure it out?”

“Who knows,” he says, smiling. It’s gentler this time, more comfortable. “Maybe we’ll all be dead by then.”

“We’d love to have you back,” she says quietly. “I know Barclay—”

“Don’t,” he says firmly. “I’m not coming back. I’ll help your guards until it’s over, but I can’t come back. You two both still almost die too often for my liking.”

“So you do still care.”

“Of course,” he says, looking up at her. He seems to fight with himself over something, and then he takes off his glasses. Black wings curl around himself. “Of course I care. I never stopped. I never stopped caring for anyone in that Lodge.”

“You sure show it.”

“I figured you’d understand best,” he says. “But maybe that girl Aubrey would. Lotsa death following her around too. Part her fault, all accident. Left as soon as she could.”

“I understand why,” she says quietly. “Just wished you woulda said hi once and a while, and not to tell me about yet another Sylph dying in the woods.”

“I got a reputation to uphold, aloof and a harbinger of destruction. You read the online articles about me? They’re wild. I don’t know where they get their information, but it’s real fun to read.”

“Indrid,” she says tiredly. “I thought maybe you’d pull it together a little bit out here on your own, but you look just as bad. Maybe worse. You got old nog everywhere. Does it have alcohol in it?”

He shrugs. “Occasionally, not too often.”

“At least there’s that. Come back. Help us out of this fucked up timeline. I wanna know you’re alright.”

“I’m fine. Living in the lap of luxury. Don’t you wish you had this?”

“Indrid please. I love you and I miss you and I wanna know that you’re okay. I can’t know that with you way out here, all alone with too many space heaters with too much nog.”

“I can’t. Besides. Just cause you’d have me back doesn’t mean Barclay would.”

“You don’t know that,” she says. “I’m sure there’s more than one possibility.”

“There is, but I don’t want to get in another fight about self preservation with either of you. I think he’d be expecting me to look healthier too. I’m not quite there yet. The egg nog is helping, though.”

Mama sighs and crosses her arms.

“You can’t swindle me anymore. I haven’t been a little kid in a long time.”

“Nah, but you’re still our Abby,” he says cheerfully. “I’ll be alright, I promise.”

“You’ve been saying that since I met you fifty one years ago and I don’t think it’s ever been the goddamn truth, Indrid. I think you’ve been lying to me about yourself my whole life. I don’t think you’ve been alright in a long, long time. Probably not even before you got to Earth. But Earth made it worse because no one listened. Except we did, but you won’t let us help you now. We love you, I love you. Barclay still loves you. Moira would love to see you again. I think those kids I got on the Guard would love you.”

Indrid looks at her, eyes tired and body slumped.

‘You’re right, Abby. You’re always right. But I can’t accept your help. I’m doing okay out here, even if I don’t look it. It’s… It’s lonely, I’ll be honest. I miss you. I miss Barclay. I miss the Lodge and your mama and Thacker and Mike, even if Thacker’s in your basement half crazy right now. But I can’t come back. I think if I came back and one of you died I wouldn’t be able to take it anymore. I haven’t felt okay in a long, long time, and I don’t think I was okay once during your growing up, which probably wasn’t any kind of good example for you, especially seeing how self sacrificial you are now. I messed up and I am messed up, and I don’t wanna let myself feel that again.”

“Locking everything away ain’t no way to do that and you know it.”

“I know, but it’s better than the alternative.”

She sighs again, pulls her duster tighter around herself even if it’s sweltering. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too, Abigail.” It’s rare he uses her full name. She hasn’t heard it since the last time he scolded her, and she laughs. “What’s funny?”

“Haven’t heard that name in a long long time, not since the last time you said it.

He smiles, toothy, and relaxes back into the couch. “Why not stay a while? We can catch up, you tell me about your life, I tell you about my non existent one. It’ll be good.”

So she does, and he pours her a glass of egg nog. She always did like it. She’ll have to deal with this, with him. Make him make himself better, even if he hasn’t been better for longer than she’s been alive. She could never stand to watch him waste away and seeing him like this, carefree, smiling, but just as unhealthy and locking all his bad emotions away for bad jokes, that’s almost worse.

“I gotta get back to the hospital,” she says after a few hours. He’s listened to her prattle on and on about the years he’s been gone, even if he could already see all of it. It hurts her in a good way. “I’ll be back. I expect you to clean up the ancient nog before then.”

“You trying to be a mom?”

“Mama is my name up at the Lodge now,” she teases. He’ll never call her that, and Barclay won’t when they’re in private either.

“You got me!” He grins at her and she smiles back. “Alright. I got a favor for you. You’re not gonna like it.”

“Depends on what it is.”

“Tell Barclay hello for me?”

“Tell him yourself. You got a phone and so does everyone else on the damn planet.”

“I can’t,” he says, sinking in on himself a bit. “I want to see him, maybe, sometime in the future, but I can’t make that move first.”

“It’ll hurt him if I do it,” she says. She won’t do this. She loves him but she won’t do this for him.

“Abby, I know you’ll say no, but please?”

“Nope. I’m not touching that part of your mess. That’s yours to clean up. I’ll help with the rest, but I won’t help you fuck your relationship back up.”

He slumps and nods. “Yeah I figured. Then… tell him you love him for me?”

“Yeah,” she says softly. “I can do that. Be easy on those kids tomorrow, you hear me?”

“I’ll keep it in mind.” There’s a pause. “I love you, Abby,” he says as she reaches for the door. “Don’t you forget that.”

“I love you too, Indrid.” She grips the handle for a moment, turning it and not opening it. “You remember that when you lock up your feelings the next time.”

He snorts and she grins and leaves. The truck ride back to the hospital is uneventful, and Ned’s still not awake when she’s back. Aubrey’s asleep on Duck’s shoulder, and Duck is dozing in his chair, not too invested in what’s happening around him.

“Everything go okay?” Barclay asks as she sits next to him. She sits her head on his shoulder like she dead when she was little and he wraps his arm around her shoulder.

“I love you,” she says instead of answering. “I hope you know that.”

“I do,” he says gently. “I love you too. Is everything alright?”

“I think it’ll get there. It’s a little messy right now, but I’m working it out?”

“Need help?”

“Nah,” she says, kicking her leg out to get some of the stiffness gone. “I’ll figure it out.”

Mama hasn’t been Abby, or even Abigail, in a good couple years. But right now, head on Barclay’s shoulder, she feels just as young and invincible as she did before.

**Author's Note:**

> GOD! u kno i keep saying "oh ill stop writing amnesty" but i dont think i will. Every episode i get more and more inspo. God I love Indrid Cold. Ive got way t0o many headcanons about him and how he fits into the story so far. If he turns out to be bad, i will be vaguely upset because im reALLY FUCKING LOVE HIM  
> also i never thought id make a mama character study, but i wanted her interactions with the sylphs from baby to now, and i wanted barclay and indrid to be there, so i made it happen  
> hope you liked! please comment if you did!


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